Hurrying over to the counter where I’d left my cell, I smiled at the name flashing on my screen.

Roane and I had exchanged numbers last night.

That smile turned to a frown as I caught sight of the time on my phone. I’d spent over an hour reading the play instead of working.

Maybe there was a downside to a book nerd running a bookstore.

“Hey,” I said a little breathlessly as I answered.

“Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?”

Ignoring the way my heart sped up a little at the sound of his deep voice, I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No. Is everything okay?”

“Not really.” He sounded glum. “I’m sorry, Evie, but I need to cancel our plans this afternoon.”

We’d planned for me to close the shop a little early so Roane could drive me into Alnwick, the largest nearest town, to pick up a rental car. Disappointed I wouldn’t see him, I pasted on a breezy smile and hoped it translated in my reply. “That’s okay. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been called away from the farm to one of the houses we maintain. A neighbor reported a loud party to the police last night, and I’ve turned up and the renters have smashed up the place, including the kitchen window.”

“Oh my God.”

“Aye, I’ve had to call the police again, as well as the owners, so I don’t know how long it’ll take to sort this mess out. I’m sorry.”

Irritated for him, I sighed. “You have nothing to be sorry for. That’s awful. Is there anything I can do?” It was probably a stupid question, considering I was carless.

“You’re doing it.” I thought I heard a smile in his voice. “Meet me at The Anchor after dinner? Eight o’clock?”

“Of course.”

I wished him luck sorting out the vacation home crisis and we hung up. Staring out at the sea, I thought about how disappointed I was that I wouldn’t get to spend the afternoon with Roane and wondered if maybe bonding with this guy so quickly wasn’t a very foolish idea after all.

Yet I knew I wasn’t going to do a damn thing to stop myself.

Eight

Before I knew it, my first two weeks in Alnster were almost up. It was a frustrating quirk of human nature that time seemed to slow when you were going through something difficult or when you were bored. Yet it sped up, racing away from your control when life was pretty darn good.

My second Sunday arrived with alarming alacrity, and it followed a busy Saturday at the bookstore. Saturday morning had started with a book bang. The books I’d ordered for the new releases bookcase arrived. I was a kid in a candy store! Pulling the beautiful paperback and hardback books out of the boxes; smelling that new book smell and feeling crisp, unread pages beneath my fingers; and wishing they were all mine. Organizing the books on the shelves, I’d posted a selfie on Instagram of me hugging the bookcase with longing in my eyes.

Apparently, Saturday was the store’s sweet spot, because almost as soon as I’d finished organizing the new titles, the bell above the door tinkled. A couple ventured in, each holding the hand of the little girl between them. Nostalgia filled me as I watched them peruse the children’s titles with her, remembering days when my mom and dad had done the same thing with me.

I loved how the hours melted away as I engaged with my customers. As it turned out, my bookworm tendencies did come in handy when customers asked for recommendations or asked if I’d read a certain book and had an opinion about it. As a voracious reader, I was super helpful.

Unless a customer asked me about Northumberland and the best I could do was direct them to the books written about the area.

I was counting that as helpful too.

My daylight hours during my first two weeks were spent at the store, working on edits when things were quiet, and then taking walks on the beach during my lunch hour if the day was dry. In the evening, I met Roane and Shadow at The Anchor. Sometimes we met early to eat, other times at night just to catch up on our day and chat among the locals.

The mystery of why we never socialized at The Alnster Inn was finally solved my first Friday night when Mr. Thompson cracked a joke about Milly leaving Dexter for someone called West Elliot. To me it was an offhand comment based on the fact that Milly was rushed off her feet behind the bar at weekend nights, with waitstaff jumping on to help her out because Dexter insisted they needn’t hire another bartender. Milly had joked, “It’s because he wants the cash for his precious produce, never mind his precious wife.”